Kathy Love - Fangs For The Memories

All too quickly, her fresh scent was overwhelmed by another smell, which couldn't be masked by the strong odor of stale beer and cigarette smoke. It swirled around each of the people like spun sugar-enticing, yet sickening to Rhys because of its sweet intensity.

He swallowed and concentrated on the woman's wholesomeness. He could suppress his reaction to the other scent, the smell of blood. He did all the time, but it was harder than usual tonight. It always was once he'd made up his mind that he would feed.

But he'd do that later-picking from the worst of the lot. It wouldn't be difficult tonight-many of the patrons here were so bad they were completely lost. Lost to redemption- just like him.

And then there was this woman. Why was she here? She certainly didn't belong here, but he didn't need preternatural abilities to tell that. She was dressed in a green wool skirt with matching blazer. The white blouse she wore underneath was simple and plain. Her leather pumps were sensible.

The outfit was modest and practical, but she looked far from dowdy. The skirt displayed her well-shaped calves and gave brief flashes of a little thigh. But it was her face that captivated Rhys. Not a classically beautiful face, but she had sweetness to her features, full lips, a small pert nose and those huge eyes. Her eyes alone were enough to hold him spellbound.

He frowned. No mortal in his two hundred years had held so much interest for him. He supposed it must be the fact that she was so obviously out of place that intrigued him. Or maybe because she reminded him of the place where he'd once come from-where people were good and kind and loved one another.

The bartender returned to her with the shot, a slice of lime in another shot glass and a shaker of salt.

The pixie stared at the objects with obvious confusion. She glanced around, her eyes stopping on him for a moment. She immediately looked away.

After another moment, she took the lime from the glass.

She frowned at the segment, then started to squeeze it into the shot of liquor.

A masculine hand clasped hers, stopping her.

"Hi there," the boyish-faced ex-convict said. "Want me to show you how to do that?"

The pixie hesitated again, and Rhys sensed her wariness. Smart girl. But then she straightened and nodded. "Yes. Please."

The ex-convict raised a hand and called to the bartender for a shot for himself.

Rhys watched as the ex-convict demonstrated the proper way to do the shot. Lick, salt, lick, shot, then lime. The pixie mimicked him, except she sputtered and coughed around her slice of lime.

"Not bad," the man told her, once she'd stopped gagging. His eyes roamed over her, and Rhys could tell that the comment was as much about the woman herself as her drinking style.

The ex-convict's eyes lingered on her legs, and that suggestion of lovely thigh. Lust mixed with violence quivered just under the surface of his friendly good looks.

Rhys suppressed a wave of irritation-aimed as much toward the woman as the convict. Why was she here? She should be with her family in front of a twinkling Christmas tree, singing carols. Hell, what he wouldn't give to be with his family one more time.

The ex-convict snapped his fingers and requested two more shots.

Rhys shifted on his seat. He should step in. Instead he sipped his own drink. He remembered the prostitutes. He'd done his good deed for this year. With a few days to spare, even.

"Hey, Joey, you gonna spend the night scammin on chicks, or are you going to hang with your boys?"

Joey gave the pixie a sheepish look. He was as deceptive and dangerous as any of Rhys's kind. "Sorry, I've got money on this game."

The woman nodded. "That's fine. Thanks for the instruction."

Joey's smile deepened; arousal laced with a cruelty flashed in his eyes. "No problem. And who knows, maybe you can show me a trick or two yourself sometime?"

"Okay," she agreed, completely missing the innuendo in his words.

Joey returned to his buddies, and Rhys made up his mind that the ex-convict would be his Christmas dinner.

The bartender arrived with the two shots Joey had ordered, placing them before the pixie.

She opened her mouth as if she was going to tell him to take the drinks back, but instead she sighed and then, almost reluctantly, licked the expanse of skin between her forefinger and thumb. She dashed a liberal amount of salt to the wetted area.

Rhys watched as her small, pink tongue reappeared and lapped over her skin, and for the first time in a long time, desire unrelated to the hunger shot through him.

She swallowed the shot, managing to down all the golden liquid with only a violent shudder as she reached for the lime.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him staring at her. With the lime still in her mouth, she turned to frown at him. Her eyes showed only the briefest flash of wariness before she glared at him.

"What are you looking at?" she demanded, after she had plucked the citrus fruit out of her mouth.

His eyes moved from her lips, glistening with juice, and he shook his head. He returned his attention to his drink, although his body was still fixating on how that mouth would feel sucking on him.

What the hell had gotten into him tonight?

Jane Mary Harrison could not believe she had just yelled at a complete stranger. She'd never been that rude in her entire life. But then, she'd never been in a big city either. Or in a bar. Or done tequila shots. Oh, the difference a day makes.

And what a day she'd had. She'd been in New York City only one day, and in that time, she'd lost the job she'd just gotten, which in turn caused her to lose the apartment she had lined up. When she was leaving the realtor's office, some man had stolen her purse, and she'd had to spend nearly six hours in a police station with all sorts of frightening people, waiting to place a report with a very uninterested officer. If she was going to start doing tequila shots, this seemed like the time.

Today was supposed to be the beginning of her new, adventuresome and fun life. So far, it had been long on adventure, and very, very short on fun.

But she was determined to have a little fun tonight. It was Christmas Eve, for heavens sake. And, thankfully, she'd had the foresight to put traveler's checks in her suitcase, so she wasn't destitute-yet.

She looked at the one full and three empty shot glasses in front of her. Was she going to have to spend her precious money on four shots? Three of which she didn't order.

She sighed. Ah, well. At least Joey had been nice-the nicest person she'd met so far in the Big Apple. She glanced at him, leaning over the pool table, lining up a shot. He was sort of cute, too. And he'd flirted with her-at least, she thought he'd flirted.

Her eyes darted briefly to the man sitting beside her. He wasn't flirting with her. In fact, he'd done nothing but cast her cool looks since she entered the bar. And she would never describe him as cute. She'd be willing to bet that cute wasn't even used to describe him as a child. No, he was stunningly, dauntingly beautiful. She couldn't recall ever seeing anyone that-perfect.

He had long hair that just brushed his broad shoulders. She'd never been that crazy about long hair, but on this man, it looked amazing. Glossy and thick in shades of sable threaded with burnished gold.

In profile, she could see the cut of his jawline, the wide, sculpted shape of his lips and slight arrogant flare of his nose. But it had been his peculiar eyes like whiskey in flickering firelight that had taken her breath away. They were so beautiful, so intense-almost predatory.

He was gorgeous.

She cast him another furtive look. In his black turtleneck sweater and black trousers, he didn't seem to fit in here any more than she did, although not for the same reasons. He looked too affluent for a place like this. Too cultured. But under all that beauty and urbaneness, she still sensed something dangerous about him-that feral quality that lurked in his strange eyes.